


In Vienna Veritas

by summerbutterfly



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerbutterfly/pseuds/summerbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gen Schuyler went to Vienna in search of inspiration.  What he found was a young artist who would open his eyes to a whole new way of thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vienna Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rroselavy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/gifts).



  
__

__

The Golden Cicada sings,  
the king of insects, its  
translucent wings  
shining in the afternoon sun.  
-G. Schuyler, Vienna, 1901

"I have something for you." Klaus Konenheim slipped into his chair, gleeful smile warming his handsome face. His hair was tied back in its usual flaxen braid, the top obscured by a stylish top hat. "I believe it is just the thing to break you out of your current state of _ennui_ , Gen. Have a look."

Gen Schuyler eyed him over his coffee. Normally, when Klaus had ideas, Gen was automatically adverse to them. A genial man with the best of intentions, Klaus had his head a bit too far up in the clouds on most days, completely into the stars on the worst. Still, Gen took the handbill Klaus pushed towards him. It was an advert for a new exhibition by the Secession. A previously unknown artist who was being billed as a 'the new genius of _Jugendstil_.' 

"What makes you think I'm bored?" he asked. "I find Vienna quite stimulating." 

"But you are not writing." Klaus waved down the waiter, a handsome brunet who jumped a little too eagerly at the man's summons. "And the deadline for _Ver Sacrum_ is soon. I am concerned you will miss a golden opportunity. Perhaps some additional sessions with Norman would help?"

Gen snorted. Another one of Klaus's best and worst qualities was his ability to see the good in everyone, no matter how obvious their flaws. "Norman has a long way to go before he helps anyone," he quipped. "He may have read all the latest research on psychoanalysis, but if you ask me, he should apply his findings to himself first before inflicting them on someone else."

"Really?" Klaus's tea arrived, complete with a flirty smile from the waiter. "I think Norman is quite learned."

"I didn't say otherwise." Gen sipped his coffee. "He has obviously done extensive study. But I find it odd that he is obsessed with talking about my relationship with my mother when I don't even remember my damn mother. Also, I have no idea how knowing my mother would, in any way, affect my interactions with other people."

"Gen," Klaus whispered. "Language. We're in _public_."

"Nobody is listening." Gen looked back at the handbill. The image that had been chosen for the graphic was a dark shadow standing atop a pile of twisted, naked bodies. It was equal parts scandalous, erotic and disturbing, and he was intrigued enough to read the finer print. Two weeks only, and in a small gallery behind the main Secession building. "Where did you find this?"

"There was a stack of them on the table outside the men's room. Shall we attend?" 

"I'll consider it." Gen set the paper back on the table. "Though it looks like you will be busy this evening, so perhaps tomorrow?"

"Hm?" Distracted by the waiter, who had suddenly become a ubiquitous presence at their little table, Klaus blushed when Gen arced an eyebrow in the waiter's direction. "Oh. Well. I do have a relatively full social calendar tonight. So many people to meet."

"Mmm." Gen shook his head and opened his notebook. He didn't catch the words exchanged between Klaus and the waiter, but he did catch Klaus slipping the young man his card. 

Gen made a mental note not to be home during calling hours.

 

Fortunately, being home during calling hours never became an issue because shortly after Klaus left to attend an afternoon lecture at the University, inspiration had come, and Gen lost himself in the written word. It was more stream-of-consciousness than anything, but it was still more than he'd gotten in quite awhile, which forced him to begrudgingly admit that perhaps Klaus's idea to spend the summer in Vienna hadn't been his worst. It was warm, a touch humid, but certainly better than the endless grey that was London, the teeming throngs that were Paris, and the cold industrialization that was Berlin. Yes, Vienna by far had more charisma than all three put together and Gen decided he could get used to being there.

At least for the interim.

"Gen! Are you still here?"

Norm's smooth, even voice broke into his musings, forcing Gen to set his dip pen aside. The American hovered over him, pipe between his lips, shaggy dark hair partially obscuring his face. Gen felt a prickle of unease. Though he and Klaus had been traveling with the man for some time, there was something about him that wasn't quite right. And aside from their analysis sessions, Gen tended to avoid being around Norman when Klaus wasn't present. 

"Klaus is entertaining," Gen said. "I thought I would give him some privacy."

"Still?" Uninvited, Norm sat down. "The young man was leaving when I stopped by a couple hours ago. Did he have more callers this evening?"

"I don't keep up with Klaus's social schedule," Gen replied curtly. "It is possible."

"Mmmm." Norman crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knees. He didn't say anything for several moments, just surveyed Gen with his dark, unreadable eyes. "Did he tell you about the exhibition?" 

"The one with the handbill? He did."

"Will you be going?"

"I have not decided." 

"It seems like the imagery would appeal to you." Norman's glasses caught the reflection of the fading, summer light. "Maybe even prove inspirational."

"Perhaps." Gen eyed the older man. "Though I would love to know why everyone is so intent that I see this. It is not the only Secessionist exhibition that will be staged this summer."

"No, that is true," Norman agreed. "But this one seems like it could be particularly useful to you. After all, a writer is no good if he does not produce words."

He smiled then, that degrading, condescending smile that grated on Gen's nerves. Breaking decorum, Gen stood, pushing back from the table without even the semblance of politeness. "The hour is late. I should return. Should I tell Klaus you will be calling in the morning? Or will we be spared?" 

"I will be there for breakfast as usual." Norman gave him an airy wave. "Tread lightly, friend."

"Likewise, Dr. Ogden." 

Gen ignored Norman's huffing laughter as he walked away.

***

Klaus was done entertaining by the time he got home, though he hadn't bothered getting out of his dressing gown. 

"Gen," Klaus beamed. "Did you get inspired?"

"Somewhat." Gen shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the rack. "I ran into Norman."

"Oh! Will he be calling at breakfast?" Klaus sipped from his teacup. "I purchased extra sausage." 

"He will," Gen said reluctantly. "Again."

"Oh come now, Gen. It's not polite to leave a foreigner alone in a new city. Especially in one where he doesn't natively speak the language!"

"I don't know, his German seems fine to me," Gen muttered. "Did you have dinner?"

"Mmm hmm. I had _Schweinsbraten_. Would you like some?" 

"Please." 

Gen followed Klaus into the kitchen. With just the two of them in the apartment for the summer, they hadn't bothered to set up the formal dining room, preferring instead the quiet comfort of the kitchen. His portion of the _Schewinsbraten_ sat on the counter. It was still warm.

"I told Norman we would go to the exhibition tomorrow," Klaus said. "Care to join us?" 

Gen paused in the act of sitting down. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up?" he asked. "It's just art." 

"Supposedly it's more than just art. It's an experience. Besides, what kind of men of culture would we be if we didn't see it for ourselves?"

"You mean what will you talk about with your callers if not the latest scandalous gossip?" 

Klaus at least had the good grace to blush. "Come now, Gen. You are being difficult for the sake of being difficult. You must admit the advert looks _nothing_ like the hackneyed work coming out of the Paris salons." 

"Was it not you who said spattering colors across a large-scale canvas was the new _avant garde_?"

"Yes, but that was last month," Klaus said dismissively. "This. This dark and slightly inappropriate. _This_ is the true, new _avant garde_. So anti-establishment!" 

Gen sighed. He cut off a slice of roast pork and covered it in a cabbage leaf. "If it means so much to you, I'll go. But in return, we have breakfast at least once this week without the company of Norman."

Klaus folded his hands around his cup of tea. "All right," he agreed. "You come with me to the exhibition, and I'll make sure we have a morning without Norman."

"Thank you," Gen said, and continued to eat. 

***

Gen hadn't been sure what he expected when they arrived at the tiny outbuilding the following afternoon, but it certainly wasn't a snaking line of spectators waiting to gain entrance.

"Word certainly seems to have gotten out," Norman remarked. "Everyone who is anyone is here."

"I overheard some of the gentry down at the Cafè Museum this morning say the artist was going to make an appearance," Klaus said. "Perhaps they're hoping for a glimpse?"

"Or perhaps they are here for the titillation." Gen gestured to a life-sized sculpture positioned by the entryway- a generously-endowed female draped in diaphanous robes. The only thing hidden from the viewer was her face.

"Gen! Manners," Klaus murmured. "Though interesting. I didn't know the artist worked in more than one medium."

"A true genius would never let himself be limited by his tools," Norman said. "Especially if the urge to create is strong."

"So it seems. Makes me even more eager to see what this is all about." Klaus adjusted his gloves. "And join in the discourse later, of course."

"Of course," Norman agreed.

Gen said nothing.

They were inside the space less than a quarter hour later, shuffling along through a maze of unframed canvases and free-standing works, all centering around the same sort of dark and aggressively sexual images touted by the sculpture outside. Gen was examining a particularly haunting image of a naked young man with shackled hands and a gold coronet when a hush fell over the crowd. Someone had entered.

Gen turned with the rest of the crowd to see who it was. 

It was a young man. Sixteen, maybe seventeen if he had to guess, short of stature with a stocky build. He came up to about the elbow of his escort, but there was no mistaking his identity. He was the boy in the portrait directly behind Gen. And, if Gen was drawing the right conclusions, he was also the artist and the reason for the swollen crowd.

"Mr. Go!" A few feet down, a man with a notepad and a man with a camera waved in the young man's direction. "Mr. Go, a word?"

Mr. Go looked up at his escort, who spoke quietly. The young man nodded.

"Mr. Go grants a word," the escort said in German. 

"Who is the woman in the paintings, Mr. Go?"

Again the young man looked at the escort. Hushed words were exchanged, and then Go spoke in halted German. "I do not know." 

"Not much of an accent," Klaus murmured. "But obviously foreign. Where do you think he's from?"

"Hard to say," Norman murmured back. 

Meanwhile, the interviewer pressed onward. "Is she someone special? A companion perhaps?"

The crowd buzzed. Go and and his escort conferred.

"No," Go said, when his escort straightened. "No. Not a companion. Just a dream."

"A dream? What kind of dream?"

"Mr. Go has answered the question," the escort said abruptly. "Please move on."

"All right, all right. How long do you plan on staying in Vienna, Mr. Go, and do you plan on exhibiting again before the end of the summer season?"

Go looked at the reporter. He seemed to understand this question without the aid of the translator and answered just as vaguely as he'd answered the questions previous. "I will display again. And I will stay until I understand. Then I will go."

The crowd buzzed again and the reporter seemed, for the first time, truly stumped. "Mr. Go?" he said tentatively.

"No more questions," the escort growled. "Good day." 

 

Once outside, the trio strolled to a nearby cafe where Klaus and Norman indulged in some _Apfelstrudel _while Gen sipped coffee. Conversation turned to what they had just seen and experienced.__

__"What an unusual young man," Klaus remarked. "Highly remarkable."_ _

__"Indeed," Norman agreed. "Unusual and fascinating. I am intrigued by this woman he sees in his dreams."_ _

__"Maybe it's his mother," Gen quipped. "You should ask him, Norman. Perhaps he, too, is stunted in his development?"_ _

__Norman's eyes flickered in Gen's direction, his ire barely hidden by a veneer of politeness. "If it is his mother, it would suggest a fixation," Norman said. "The same sort you seem to be experiencing, Gen, only his results in hyper productivity instead of stagnation."_ _

__Gen frowned. Before he could retort, however, Klaus stepped in. "Now gentlemen, let's not fight. And let's not make hasty judgments. It is beautiful afternoon in Vienna and we are enjoying some delicious pastries. Let's make an effort to enjoy each other's company as well, shall we?"_ _

__"But of course, Klaus," Norman said smoothly. "And let's also keep in mind, Gen, that I am only trying to help you. It was you who came to me regarding your writer's block and you... _other_ abnormalities." _ _

__Gen grit his teeth and did not respond. Norman poured Klaus some more tea. More people emerged from the exhibition, talking animatedly about what they had seen. And as the afternoon wore on, the cafe crowd grew more and more sedate._ _

__"Oh my, is it close to supper time already? I must be returning home." Klaus rose and donned his top hat. "Gen, will you be joining me?"_ _

__Gen spared a glance at his pocket watch. 6 p.m. He'd done no work since yesterday and he wasn't much in the mood for further discussion on Go's exhibition._ _

__"No," he said. "I'm going to dine here."_ _

__"Oh." Klaus seemed a touch disappointed. "Norman, would you care for some supper?"_ _

__"It would be my pleasure." Norman looked almost triumphant as he stood. "Good evening, Gen."_ _

__Gen grunted and pulled out his notebook, pointedly ignoring the way Norman's hand touched Klaus's back as they walked away._ _

__It was dark before he stopped. The cafe staff had come around and lit the candles on the tables, the crowd had swelled again to include dinner patrons, and music from a near-by cabaret club drifted out into the street. Gen stretched and rubbed at the crick in his neck, setting his pen down just as a shadow cast itself over his inked-out words._ _

__" _Guten Abend._ " _ _

__Gen turned. Behind him stood a young man with shaggy, dark brown hair and golden eyes. Go._ _

__" _Guten Abend_ ," he returned. "Mr. Go."_ _

__Go smiled and nodded. He then spoke rapidly in a language Gen didn't understand before stopping himself, and recovering his composure._ _

__"Sorry," he said. "I...My German is not the best."_ _

__"It's all right," Gen said. "I speak English as well?"_ _

__Go took a minute to comprehend, then shook his head. "Just German," he said. "Or Japanese."_ _

__Japanese. Interesting. Gen had never met anyone from Asia before, let alone such a young artist._ _

__"What brings you to Vienna?" he asked. "Only art?"_ _

__"Art." Go nodded. "I come for art."_ _

__"Your art is very good," Gen said._ _

__Go grinned. " _Danke._ " _ _

__There was an awkward pause. The kind that occurred between strangers when they were unsure of the next step. Surprisingly, Gen was not adverse to Go's presence, and Go seemed to want company, so Gen gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the table. "Please," he said. "Sit?"_ _

__Go did, pulling the cafe menu toward him eagerly. He studied it long and hard, brow creasing into a frown as he studied the words translating, Gen assumed, from foreign tongue to native._ _

__"I do not know many of these foods," Go confessed. "What is... _Knödel_?"_ _

__"It's a dumpling," Gen explained._ _

__"Oh! Dumpling!" Go looked excited. "May I get some?"_ _

__"Yes. I can order some for you." Gen signaled to the passing waiter. Go listened intently to their exchange, nodding as Gen added hot tea to Go's request, assuming the young man would probably like a beverage with his snack._ _

__He was right, and he was a little bemused at how quickly Go devoured the food when it came.  
Gen ordered another plate._ _

__"Did you not have supper?" he asked._ _

__"Supper?" Go looked thoughtful. "No, I had supper."_ _

__"You seem very hungry."_ _

__"Oh yes. Hungry." Go proceeded to inhale the second plate as quickly as the first. He also seemed to have gotten the hang of the ordering thing because he spoke directly to the waiter to order a third round. "Also, I like these very much."_ _

__"I can see that," Gen said, arching a brow. "I'll have to try them some time."_ _

__"Oh yes. They are very good." Go dabbed his lips with the linen napkin._ _

__He seemed to slow down after the third plate of _Knödel_ , sitting back to sip his tea and watch the wandering crowds. In the flickering light he seemed even younger that he had back in the gallery, and Gen found himself needing to satisfy his own curiosity._ _

__"Mr. Go? May I ask your age?"_ _

__"Age?" Go rolled the word over in his mind. "Ah. Yes. I am twenty."_ _

__"Twenty?" That was only two years younger than Gen himself. "Really?"_ _

__"Yes. I know, I seem young. But I am not." Go smiled. "I am an old soul."_ _

__It was Gen's turn to contemplate, and he ruminated over the expression. Go continued smiling and sipping until his cup was empty. Then, he set it back on the table, folded his hands and fixed Gen with a serious expression._ _

__"You are an old soul, too," he said._ _

__Unsure how to respond to that, Gen didn't. After a few moments, Go continued. "I would like to paint you."_ _

__It was another huge jump, and Gen blinked, staring at Go strangely. "Paint me?"_ _

__"Yes. Do you mind?"_ _

__"I..." Gen felt very off-balance by the question. "What would I have to do?"_ _

__"Come to my studio. It is very easy."_ _

__"Do you often paint from life?" Gen thought of the woman, and Go's assertion that he didn't know who she was._ _

__Go shook his head. "Very rare for me to find the right model," he said. "But you are the right model."_ _

__***_ _

__Go left his card with Gen, scrawling a time on the back to come to his studio. It was rather early, especially by visitation standards, but Gen complied nonetheless, dressing and leaving the house before Klaus had even risen to cook breakfast._ _

__The streets were very quiet at this hour. Few, if any, people were out, and those that were traversed the Ringstraße as if they had a destination in mind. The air, too, contributed to that, moist but slightly cool as the sun rose, and Gen buttoned his coat a little higher._ _

__Not long after leaving, he arrived at the address Go had given him. He entered at street level, and found the inner door to Go's apartment without too much of a problem._ _

__When his knock wasn't answered, he tried the latch. It opened easily, so Gen went inside._ _

__Go was standing in a tiny, cluttered room with east-facing windows, an easel behind him and a mug in his hand._ _

__" _Guten morgen_ ," Go said pleasantly. "Want to get started?"_ _

__Gen nodded, though he would have preferred a cup of coffee to being ushered straight away into a chair. But Go had a look in his eye, and Gen felt wrong about demanding something in someone else's house. So he sat as Go prepared._ _

__"The hour is early," Go said, "but there is a perfect color to the light. It is too beautiful to miss."_ _

__"Should I do anything special?"_ _

__"No. Just sit."_ _

__Go set several sticks of sharpened charcoal on his easel tray. He then retrieved a canvas and several sheets of paper from the corner of the room and set them with their backs facing Gen. After a few adjustments to the angle, Go pulled his hair back off his face, inserted a pencil to hold it there, and got to work._ _

__The sun rose, filling the room with a warm, golden glow._ _

__Only an hour or so past mid-morning, Go declared he was finished._ _

__"That's it?" Gen looked at Go as he removed the canvas and set it to face the wall "I thought..."_ _

__"I have what I need so you don't need to sit anymore." Go smiled. "Would you like some lunch? It is about the time for it, and I would certainly like some."_ _

__Hungry and under caffeinated, Gen agreed without hesitation. He cast a last glance at the hidden canvas as Go grabbed his coat, curious to see, but knowing better than to ask. Being an artist himself, he knew how hard it was to show a work in progress. Sometimes, it was best not to say anything until there was a finished product ready._ _

__Go locked the door behind them as they strode out into the street. It was a sharp contrast from the earlier morning, with foot and carriage traffic making a great cacophony of noise and tossing dust up in the humid noontime air. Before they'd even gone a block, Gen had undone his coat, and Go had removed his hat, allowing his dark hair to become tousled by the river breeze._ _

__"I am very much liking Vienna," Go said as they passed Stephansdom. "Such a beautiful place. So full of life!"_ _

__"It is something," Gen agreed. "Have you traveled much?"_ _

__"Not in the West, no." Go shook his head. "But in the East I have been many places. North China, Tibet, Burma, India."_ _

__Gen nodded as the turned the corner to Cafè Museum, a place that fast becoming his favorite. Whether Go had realized that or not he wasn't sure, but he was pleased when Go sat down at an outside table. They ordered quickly. Klaus's waiter-friend from the other afternoon even recognized Gen and brought him his coffee without being prompted._ _

__"So, I realize I have not even asked your name," Go said, folding his hands. "What is your name?"_ _

__"Gen. Gen Schuyler," Gen replied._ _

__"Very pleased to have met you, Mr. Gen Schuyler," Go said. "And very pleased you allowed me to draw you. Not many people allow me to draw them."_ _

__"Why is that?" Gen asked._ _

__Go shrugged. "I do not know. I guess it is because..." he paused, as if searching for the right expression. "I guess because I am considered Secessionist? You have a name for it."_ _

__"Secessionist, yes," Gen said. "That's what they are calling anyone who has deviated from the mainstream."_ _

__Go pursed his lips. "I paint what I feel," he said. "What I see. My dreams. My art comes from inside me and that seems to make people...unhappy. Afraid."_ _

__"People fear what they don't understand," Gen said. "And Western society is particularly bad with their self-expression. Anything outside of the ordinary is seen as queer or deviant, and therefore bad for society's moral fabric."_ _

__"Moral fabric?" Go looked at him curiously. "What is moral fabric?"_ _

__"The kinds of things that keep us from acting out. Disobeying laws. The code that maintains we remain productive members of society."_ _

__"But to feel is human, is it not? Why would someone want to stop feeling? Stop dreaming?"_ _

__Gen looked at the young man across the table for a long, long moment. "I don't know," he said at last. "But I think that's probably the most intelligent question I've ever heard."_ _

__***_ _

__They spent the afternoon together, wandering from place to place. Go delighted in sampling foods from every restaurant they passed, and Gen couldn't help but marvel at his monstrous appetite. How such a small body could digest so much was beyond his comprehension, but spending time with Go led him to feel as if finding an answer to the mystery was not important. What was more important was Go's delight in the new flavors he discovered, and his absorption of all things Vienna, and his growing grasp of the German language, which became more and more apparent throughout the afternoon._ _

__By the time Gen wandered home, he was feeling more content than he had in a long time._ _

__"Where have you been?" Klaus threw open the door, handsome face lined with worry. "I thought something happened! Have you been out all this time?"_ _

__"I've been with the artist we saw the other day." Gen slipped out of his coat. "Go. He asked me to sit for him while he drew."_ _

__"He..." Klaus's eyes widened, and he looked at his young friend as a father might look at a wayward child. "Gen, you didn't do anything _indecent_ did you?"_ _

__"Indecent by whose standards?" Gen asked._ _

__Klaus made a face. "I ate hours ago, so your supper is probably cold," he stated. "But you can have it."_ _

__"That's all right, I have eaten." Gen followed him to the study. "What did you do today?"_ _

__"Norman and I went to the Naturhistorisches Museum and then for coffee and pastries at Demel."_ _

__" _You_ had a pastry?"_ _

__"Yes." Klaus lifted his chin. "You act as if I cannot indulge!"_ _

__"I didn't say you can't, I was just indicating my surprise. You do not usually eat sweets."_ _

__"Well, today I did." Klaus dropped dramatically onto the chaise lounge. "Are you going to write?"_ _

__"Yes." Gen retrieved his notebook from the bookshelf._ _

__"I'll stay then." Klaus picked up a book. "Since I have not had the pleasure of your company since yesterday."_ _

__Gen eyed him but said nothing, settling into the overstuffed arm chair with his pen._ _

__****_ _

__It was almost two weeks before Gen ran into Go again, and when he did, the young artist had surprising news._ _

__"Your painting is finished," he said, smiling brightly. "Would you like to come see?"_ _

__Gen, who was in the company of Klaus, paused. "Finished?"_ _

__"Yes. Well, mostly. I want to do some more with the colors, but the rest is finished."_ _

__"Well, I know I would like to see," Klaus said. "Is it far to your studio, Mr. Go?"_ _

__"No, not at all. Come. Please."_ _

__"Oh, we will." Klaus titled his tophat to a jaunty angle and followed after with Gen trailing behind._ _

__The studio was the same as Gen remembered it, albeit more cluttered with finished works this time instead of art supplies. Go walked over to a covered canvas at the back of the room, and pulled the draping off with a flourish._ _

__"It is here," he said. "What do you think?"_ _

__For a long, long, moment Klaus and Gen just stared, utterly speechless._ _

__Go seemed undisturbed by their silence. "Do you like it?"_ _

__"I..." Gen tried to take in the images on the canvas. It was so far removed from his experience as a model that he was actually wondering if he'd imagined his quiet morning in the simple wooden chair. At no point ever had the woman from Go's other works been there with him, and at no point ever did Gen ever remember being...naked._ _

__"I thought you said you did not do anything indecent," Klaus whispered._ _

__"I didn't," Gen hissed. "I sat in a chair, fully clothed!"_ _

__"Mmm, well, the anatomy is _strikingly accurate_ for someone who remained fully clothed, Gen. You have to admit." _ _

__Gen shot him a dark look before turning back to the canvas. There was no denying that he saw himself in every line of the naked man in the picture, right down to the small mole on his left hip. And there was something familiar about the way he leaned back into the woman's bare chest, the way her fingers tangled in his hair._ _

__"This isn't what I expected," he said at length. "Where..."_ _

__"Dreams," Go said. "After I met you, I had so many dreams!"_ _

__Klaus gave him a sidelong glance. Gen ignored him. "About me?"_ _

__"Yes. You and the Goddess." Go's eyes shone. "The Goddess was very fond of you."_ _

__Klaus gave a poorly-disguised cough-snicker._ _

__Gen continued to ignore him. "With all due respect, Mr. Go, I'm afraid I don't quite understand."_ _

__Go pursed his lips. He paced across the floor a couple times, thinking, then stopped. "I do not know your words for it," Go said at last, "but...in your language, how do you talk about...the All?"_ _

__"The All?" Klaus repeated. "Like God?"_ _

__"Yes," Go said. "To the All, we are one. No separation. We come from the All, we return to the All. We are always part of the All."_ _

__Gen and Klaus looked at each other. Gen spoke first. "I still don't understand."_ _

__"You and the Goddess." Go gestured to the painting. "The Goddess, your God, is always the All, but we- you and I- we come and go, do you see? Here is you before you left the All to come again. When you were with the Goddess."_ _

__"Wait," Klaus said. "I think I see. The word you are looking for, Mr. Go. Is it 'reincarnation'?"_ _

__"What does that mean?"_ _

__"Returning to the word again and again in different forms. As different people, living different lives. Is that what you mean?"_ _

__"Yes, yes." Go nodded. "Come from the All, go to the All. Over and over."_ _

__"So this is Gen in a different form? In another time?"_ _

__"Yes, yes!" Go clapped his hands. "That is it! Yes! "_ _

__Gen shook his head. "How can that be?" he asked._ _

__"We live many lives," Go said. "Even if we do not remember them. I told you when I met you that you are an old soul. Now you can see what I see."_ _

__"I see that Gen gets to be beautiful no matter what lifetime it is." Klaus nudged Gen's ribs. "I might be a tiny bit jealous, my friend. Look at that face!"_ _

__Gen shook his head. Only Klaus would worry about something like that when they were in the midst of a philosophical conversation._ _

__"What happens now?" Gen asked._ _

__"Oh, it is going to the Secession hall this afternoon," Go said. "To be considered for the next show."_ _

__"Which is when?" Klaus questioned, and when Gen looked at him he added, "What? We have to go if you are featured!"_ _

__"Two weeks from now," Go said. "I hope to have more work done before that time, but for now this is very good. So much feeling." He beamed at Gen. "You were as good at modeling as I expected."_ _

__Behind a gloved hand, Klaus giggled, and Gen actually felt himself blush. "I understand what it means to find your inspiration," he said, "so I am glad I could be yours."_ _

__"As am I, Mr. Gen," Go said. "You are like my sun."_ _

__Their eyes met. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn't heavy. It was filled with something that felt almost like promise, and Gen suddenly knew that coming to Vienna had set something in motion that was going to change everything._ _


End file.
